


Two good friends

by SHERlocksFriend



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHERlocksFriend/pseuds/SHERlocksFriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Sherlock and Moriarty came to dislike each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Good mourning, Sherlock Holmes."

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wicked](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25003) by Gregory Maguire. 



James Moriarty tossed the sheets off of his bed and rubbed his eyes. It was 7:30 in the morning, it was time for school.  
"Jimmy!! I made pancakes. Come down."  
"Mom, I don't like pancakes.", he called down the stairs.  
James reached over and flipped the switch to turn on the lights in the room. It was a disaster. A wardrobe in the corner spilled its contents out onto the floor. A desk pilled under with papers, books, and various trinkets and jars. James shuffled over to the wardrobe and searched for his favorite Doctor Who shirt. He turned toward the door and noticed that the gate to his hedgehog's cage was opened. It squeaked as he closed it and his anger began to build. He trumphed down the stairs only to find his mother holding his hedgehog on a plate for him to take. The creature had rolled itself into a small prickly ball.  
"Mom, you know John The Doctor doesn't like high places.", James whined.  
"You're lucky I found him. Your brothers were going to have a game of catch. You can't leave his cage open like that Jimmy."  
"Don't call me Jimmy.", James growled. His mother only scoffed.  
"Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."  
"Where's dad?", he sat at the table and poked at his food.  
"Out. He didn't come home last night. I don't think he is going to make it to your play tonight."  
"But it's the last one.", James mushed all of the pieces together, "He always misses everything."  
At that moment two similarly dressed boys dashed down the stairs and made a grab for the prickly ball on the table. James screeched and dove for his pet. He was too late. The hedgehog was in the air before anyone could stop it. Their mother jumped in to rescue the poor animal but to no effect.  
"Stop it!! You guys are so mean!! I hate you!! I hope John grows up to be as big as a dog so he can eat you both!!", James' cries of despair only pushed the hedgehog further away from him. He tackled his one of his older brothers and they crashed to the ground with flying fists. The other brother just stood off to the side and stroked the prickly being in his hand. The boys' mother finally managed to rip James and Jim apart. She scolded them for rough-housing in the house. It was already too late for the three children to eat their breakfast so they were escorted out of the house and onto the bus. The bus was loud and cramped. James was relived when he stepped off of it into a refreshing fall breeze. He gazed around at the scattered clicks and groups and found the pair he was looking for. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were walking to the entrance to the school. He ran to catch up with them.  
"John!! Sherlock!! Wait for me!! Where are we going?"  
"To the boiler room.", Sherlock said without turning his head, "I need to be alone, so you and John can just go to the library. I'll be there in an hour."  
"But Sherlock, school starts in fifteen minutes. Are you suggesting we ditch classes again?", John began, "Last time we did that my parents forbid me from meeting up with you outside of school. But do you know what you did? You crawled through my window with hot tea as an apology. Oh, never mind."  
Sherlock chuckled, "That wasn't a bad thing. I'll see you in the library in an hour." And with that, Sherlock rushed off to go to the one secluded place in the school.  
"Oh. And Sherlock.", James called after him and made him turn around, "Good mourning."


	2. "He does all that anyway."

John dragged Jim into the back of the nearly empty library and dumped him into an overstuffed chair.  
"How could you say something like that to him?", John growled. James pretended to be clueless but failed and grinned his widest.  
"I know what he is doing right now. He's grieving for his stupid dog. It was killed in a hit and run on the street."  
"And may I ask how you know that?"  
"Mmmm... No."  
John glared at James. John was Sherlock's best friend, surely Sherlock would have him of such an event although he was not one for the sharing of feelings. How did Moriarty know about Sherlock's dog when John hadn't even known Sherlock had a dog? Jim put a bored look on his face as the bell rang signaling that school was in session. John gave up on trying to figure his friends out and sat in the chair adjacent to Jim's. The faint sound of someone falling over a small pile of chairs poked at James' curiosity and made him look. A lanky boy with slightly messed grey hair collapsed from behind a bookshelf. The boy rolled onto his back and let out a loud sigh. John and Jim stared at the boy for a moment as he lay there seeming to enjoy the stunned silence and stillness he had caused. John was the first to break it.  
"Greg?"  
"Mm?", the boy turned his head to find the culprit, "John! Good, I found you." Greg stood up to join his friends. John signaled to an empty chair across from his. Gregory Lestrade fell into the chair and pulled up one of his socks, "School has begun and I have noticed that neither of you have even made an effort to go to your scheduled classes or to get up for that matter. Why?"  
"Sherlock is going to meet us here in forty five minutes.", John said plainly pulling his turquoise Gameboy Color out of a pocket, "I could get my Pikachu up to level fifty seven."  
Greg scowled at his cohorts and rushed off to his class, tripping over a couple of chairs on the way. John turned to James.  
"Sherlock doesn't mourn. He just doesn't talk or eat. And he plays sad music. And...", Jim cut him off.  
"He does all that anyway."


End file.
